Dyed Red
by witchfingers
Summary: Someone turns to look at him, almost in an over-the-shoulder fashion. Briefly assesses the poor picture he makes, and smiles to himself. He likes him because the guy is wearing red. /Russia and China centric, Modern day AU; mentions of political activism/
1. 一

_Don't own Hetalia._

_Modern day, human AUverse._

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><p><strong>dyed red<strong>

Nothing feels like home here.

He's just a nameless face there, billowing with the people, coming and going and sometimes, sometimes he wonders if it's truly him the one that's moving or the world around him,

because that doesn't feel like his world either. Just a nook on the other side of the map. A geographical nemesis.

There's so much in him that's misplaced while he walks that grey street with the sky just as grey and overcast aloft, and anyone would say there's little that's zen in him left. He, that was so grandly at peace with the universe, before he began to wear red and grow weary of those around him.

Red, for good fortune. But he always was the one to shun it. (Yao sighs.)

It's nearly midday and the crowds grow thicker, and he still has a lot left to go when the despisingly alluring smells of food begin to flood the western city. He sighs. He's hungry. His mind soon becomes full of thoughts of his mother's chao fan, and he entertains himself while he waits for the traffic light to change to green.

.

你好

.

Some things don't happen in real life until they do.

In real life, you can have a mind of your own (and use it to think);

in real life, you can actually communicate those thoughts to people around you,

in real life, there isn't some odd kind of Staatspolis out to get you

… well, it is probably because in real life you're allowed to be vehement.

But there is an element of surprise inherent to the nature of living in community, despite all of society's _nullum crimen sine culpa_; and also the fact that we may be mistaken in our preconceptions, and so,

Ivan is running for his skin.

Cursing all old-fashioned wankers that can't tell a pamphlet from a revolution.

Or, well. A true revolution, not one in the making. He won't bother with technicalities. And he _had_ half a mind to keep all his political activism away from Facebook.

In the four blocks he's been running he's already almost knocked over like three old ladies, a poodle, and an oddly misplaced supermarket cart, and when he must bring himself to a stop before the avenue, until the traffic light changes (unless he wants to end his days of world-bettering under the wheels of some old Volkswagen), he's panting under all his heavy clothes.

He keeps staring over his shoulders, anxiously. If only he wasn't so tall, if only the damned green light would blink _on_… As luck would have it, some things that don't usually happen in real life, happen sometimes. And then, events spin on a frequency that drifts away and away from the predictable.

Someone turns to look at him, almost in an over-the-shoulder fashion. Briefly assesses the poor picture he makes, and smiles to himself.

Ivan likes him because the guy is wearing red,

and he might be smiling back. Cheesily. Crookedly. From-the-wrong-doer-to-the-accomplice kind of way of smiling, while he rests his palms on his knees, partly to catch his breath again from all the running, partly so that he won't tower over all the passers-by.

"The train station, is it far from here?" Ivan asks sincerely, cursing his voice that displays an accent and gives him away,

the guy in red, young, oriental, handsome, shakes his head, "Two blocks."

"_There he is_!" rings ominously over the hustle and bustle, "_Get them!_"

get them…?

"_Both!_"

The traffic light changes to green.

.

.

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><p><strong>AN:**

In which it turns out my criminal law book is only good for writing fanfiction. Isn't it sad?

I have only the ghost of a clue as to where I'm going with this. Suggestions/ ideas/ comments/ thoughts very much (very!) appreciated, guys :)

Ambiguity and grammatical "licenses" done on purpose =D

!

About line breakers- I had the cutest stars as line breakers, but FFNet wouldn't have them show up. "你好" says Ni Hao... but PLEASE if I got it wrong correct me.

!

The title comes from Chinas' character song, _Aiyaa Four Thousand Years;_

mezametara ha ga tatanai aru yo!  
><em>When I wake up, I cannot be beaten, aru!<em>

shishi no you ni isamashiku  
><em>As brave as a lion<em>

muga no kyouchi kurenai ni somaru aru yo!  
><em>My state of selflessness is dyed red, aru.<em>

Watashi itsudemo tayoru yoroshi  
><em>Depend on me at any time<em>

Ai yaa yaa…


	2. 二

ni hao

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><p>He isn't imagining stuff, someone <em>yanks<em> him and someone _pulls_ him out of the crowd and into another one, dashes in the most unlikely way to the next corner (a block away), and all the while Ivan has been (foolishly?) looking behind him, are they following him? He's never dodged people on the streets so deftly. Proof that he could learn…

He finds himself resting against the filthy grey wall of a narrow alleyway, the kind of places you certainly should not be when you're on your own, and catches his breath… again. The familiar stranger looks at him, rather amused. Ivan recognizes him mostly because he's wearing red.

The tall man lifts an eyebrow-

-to his utter disconcert, the stranger laughs.

"The heck is wrong with them? But never worry, comrade. We lost them."

Ivan's face lights up at that word. _Comrade_. "Am I so evident?"

The stranger shrugs, good-naturedly. "In all cases, that's good for you."

"All cases… but this one, yes," the tall man points out sourly.

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你好

.

Yao assesses him. Tall, strong; a thick, marked accent. A foreigner just like himself, and he knows the type. There were too those kinds of guys back home in China. Idealists, perhaps not silly, but very influentiable. And, very, _very_ compromised.

"I didn't know they're still after… activists."

He is flashed a weary smile. "Makes the need for change deeper, don't you think?"

"I don't know about change," Yao says darkly, and says no more. A pain in his stomach reminds him of his hunger, and how there's still a lot of walk to get home. He easily dons his red jacket, turns it inside out, folds it, tucks it under his arm; lets his hair loose. In two seconds, he's another person; what with his white sweatshirt and boyish air.

Ivan thinks he's proved a point without even raising it.

.

你好

.

The arches welcome them into a different kind of cityscape;

making the urban more sparkling and mystic. A huge stone dragon painted to look like jade welcomes them with eyes that could tell thousands of stories;

Yao smiles. He isn't particularly upset about having become part of an anti-subversion operative, in fact, he's rather thrilled. He has been bored. He has been lingering in his memories too much and that can never do him good.

Maybe he's about to wake up.

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你好

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…_and when I wake up, I can't be beaten, aru._

.

你好

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The man standing beside him is younger than Yao is- for all that he is taller and more imposing, he's reckless and raw and quick to act; and quick to accept the Chinese man's offer to lunch, even if they're urban strangers.

Quick to hope, or so Yao assesses, that there is still some good left in this world that withers.

.

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><p><strong>AN** Sorry for the late update. My muses demanded a payrise and I was all broke, honest.

Apparently this story writes itself whenever I fail at studying Criminal Law. So forgive me :)

Charming!emo!Russia is the best. It pisses me up royally that he's the bad guy in every . single . hetalia . story. And don't get me started on manly!wise!China =D

Also! In case you want to leave now, this isn't written as yaoi. Sorry if I disappoint you. I still believe in friendship and comradery (pun pun pun hahaha), they're out there somewhere.


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